


Paragon

by Modragon



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Badass, Eventual Smut, F/M, I can’t help myself, Post Season 1, There’ll be more tags as i work out what this is about, bless this mess, i wrote this instead of working, kind of a self insert, probably gonna be NSFW let’s be real
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-23
Updated: 2020-12-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:20:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,834
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28211538
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Modragon/pseuds/Modragon
Summary: A woman of her own making, gifted beyond her knowledge, watched by powers far greater than she. As she learns more of her origins, she finds herself overwhelmed by what the universe has in store.Initially set post-season 1 of The Mandalorian, this work features an original character, everyone’s favourite shiny tin man, and his little green baby.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 5





	Paragon

**Author's Note:**

> Hi, so, I’ve had this idea for a story rattling around in my head for ages. Please excuse the mess.  
> It’ll get real good I promise, so sit back and enjoy!

A hand hid her mouth from view as the light creases beside her eyes made for a very convincing smile. 

“That’s a funny joke,” she said sweetly, hearing the slight edge to her own voice, hoping the patrons didn’t notice. She leaned down slightly, setting the colourful glasses down onto the low table between three alien men smoking something _fragrant_. “Enjoy your beverages, sirs,” she said with a lilt, averting her eyes and turning to slip out of the private room back through the din of patrons and the buzz of music. The men tilted their heads back to watch the fathier race on the holo on the wall. Her face immediately drooped and she had to suppress a shudder as the curtains settled closed behind her, steeling her nerves and making her way back to the bar. 

With a quiet sigh and a slow blink, she placed the black tray on the stack and was immediately greeted with another being slid towards her, covered in a dozen small glasses filled with pearlescent liquid. _Someone ordered a good time,_ she thought to herself, combing her fingers up the back of her head to tame any stray hairs that’d started to make their way out of the tight ponytail on the top of her head. She’d been working for _hours_. Surly her shift was almost done.

Tonight was 8 hours of shimmery skin and white fabric, wrapped in a sleek white and gold dress that left frightfully little to the imagination. Casino colours, as required of a waitress. Heels too tall, hair too tight, dress too small, _stars_ did she hate waitressing in the trackside rooms. She looked behind the bar at the reflection in the dark glass as she slid the tray on her hand, slowly scanning the room. _Still nothing,_ she thought. _But he said tonight…_

She was snapped out of her line of thought when the bartender made a tight-lipped whistle at her, jerking his head towards some patrons crowded around one of the larger sabbac tables, a few raising their heads to look towards the bar. Her cue to get these shots to them.

She made her way over, squeezing past a few gamblers getting a little over-excited, dodging a flying elbow with ease. This room was almost too small for all the gaming tables in it - it was luxurious, matching the rest of the casino, and although she wasn’t often a waitress, it was the one she was working in tonight. The one she’d been _told_ to work from. A few strings had to be pulled, shifts swapped, outfits rearranged (it’s specific to the suites, you see, what you have to wear - each waitress in this room wore the same as her), but she was promised that _tonight_ would be the night. Her eyes drifted upwards, the gently sloping golden ceiling of the sabbac room drawing her eyes to the spiraling chandelier shaped to look like a spinning galaxy. The night she - 

“Damn girl, take your time!” a stuffy shout came from the gaming table. She smiled apologetically, her skin prickling and suddenly feeling a little too tight on her body, and put the tray down in front of an impatient individual with … more than two arms. They began to hurriedly share the shots about, the other players not seeming to even notice them being loaded in front of them.  
“If I’m going to waste so many credits here, I at least expect fast service,” they said in a sludgy voice, their crowded face scrunched in what she assumed was displeasure. She apologised again and promptly removed the tray once emptied, turning quickly and rolling her eyes as she moved back towards the bar. 

She had barely placed the tray down on the bar top when a firm hand gripped her arm above the elbow and yanked her around the wall behind the bar out of sight. She almost squeaked in surprise, managed to keep her feet, and was twisted around out of view of the patrons. Her hair flicked her face as a grumbling voice spat in it.

“You oughtta start working like a damn good waitress, _missy_ , or I’ll dump you outside by the racetrack,” he hissed, and as if on queue, a thunder of fathiers streaked by outside the suite. This was a track-side game room, after all, and races didn’t stop until the early hours of the morning. 

“I don’t know what you mean by-” she began. She was given a very firm shake.

“You know damn well what I mean,” he growled through his teeth. “Perk up or ship out,” he said, giving her arm another jerk before letting her go. It took all of her self control not to jab her fingers into his eyes then and there as he stood in front of her. It would’ve been easy for him to loom over her, but her heels almost brought her eye-level, and she didn’t even realise she was doing it until his dark glower faltered for a split second. Her jaw twitched, hand balled into a fist, and something must’ve flashed in her eyes because he pulled back away from her and muttered something under his breath before giving her a distasteful look up and down, turning and vanishing down the hall further into the staff space behind the bar. 

She lent against the wall and blew out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. Her head bumped against it and she closed her eyes for a second. _How do the other girls do it,_ she wondered. That man was the manager for this strip of suites. She cared for him about the same measure as she cared for the other sleazy casino-goers. 

She tightened her jaw and turned back towards the bar, picking up the awaiting tray of drinks, just as another waitress took the one beside it.

“Oh wait, Jairn said this one was for you,” the girl said quickly, motioning to the three drinks on a tray in her hands, handing it over delicately. “You better take it to those men in room 4, they look important,” she said quietly, nodding her head towards a private booth on the far side of the room. She could feel Jairn the bartender’s eyes boring into her. 

The curtains were drawn closed as she watched, indicating that the room had only just been occupied, but she had no doubt in her mind that this was what she was waiting for. Mikel had come through.

She wasted no time scooping up the tray and making a beeline towards it. Her heart finally released the implications of this tray of drinks, leaping into her throat. Her hand slid into the gap of the curtains, parting them just enough to slip into the space.

Nobody seemed to notice her entry, not even her contact Mikel, who was sitting on the edge of the trio, laughing hesitantly at a fresh joke with a nervous twist about his hands. The other three men chuckling along in the room certainly fit here in the casino better than Mikel did - an older human gentleman in a white suit wearing a matching rancher’s hat, a immaculate and similarly colored beard adorning his face, flanked by a pale yellow twi’lek draped in burgundy cloth and gold chains and another human in a dark suit with a clean-shaven face and a dark look about his sharp features. The latter was the first one to take notice of her as she unloaded the drinks on the low table between them all, her hands purposefully lingering on the glass to try and catch their attention. 

“Oh, lovely,” he said, his voice a low rumble, leaning forwards to claim a drink. He didn’t look directly at her at first, but as he took the drink from under her hand he followed it up the length of her arm slowly to her face as if appraising a painting. “Very lovely,” he continued, and it was as if she’d suddenly teleported into the room. 

“Ah, Min,” Mikel almost jumped out of his skin, startling when he realised she was there. Min smiled politely, straightening up and trying to ignore the long stare the man gave her as he sat back against the lounge, drink hanging precariously between his long fingers as he swirled it. 

“Min?” The bearded man looked expectantly at Mikel and then to Min.

“Min, M-Minara Dinta, the girl I was telling you about,” Mikel stood up a little too quickly, a show of how nervous these three men made him. 

“Oh, _that_ Minara!” He said with a slap of his knee, as if he couldn’t even believe he’d forgotten her name. What had Mikel said to them about her? “Well girl, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you, although I’m a little surprised it’s in the gaming lounge and not by the track,” he continued, standing and extending a hand her way over the table. He had a thick accent, one she couldn’t quite place, but it had a pleasant drawl to it.

Mikel awkwardly gestured between the two of them with open hands, and Min wasted no time clapping her hand into the man’s, gripping it in a firm handshake. If she knew anything about these types of men it’s that you have to bear all up front, or they’ll never give you the chance again. 

“Likewise, sir,” Min said, her voice stronger and more even than she felt. The firm handshake worked and he gave her an approving nod. The other two men remained seated, the twi’lek with his hands hidden within his sleeves and the human with his arms resting on the back of the lounge, legs crossed casually. 

“And I’m surprised you’re a... waitress?” The white suited man said slowly, something Min realised was just the way he spoke, taking a seat again between his two companions. His twi’lek friend hardly moved.

“I do a bit of everything,” she said with a smile and a small, proud shrug, tucking the tray behind her back and holding it there with two hands. The man in the white suit apparently found this riveting, slapping his hand against his thigh with a guffaw.

“So she never sleeps?” he laughed, gesturing to Mikel with a wide hand. He laughed nervously in response.

“S-She’s a busy woman,” Mikel tried to add with a sheepish laugh. 

“So you tend to the fathiers here,” the man’s smooth companion commented, “Waitress, probably drive the taxis,” he tipped his head back and appraised her again. “What else can you do?”

Min opened her mouth but Mikel spoke first, a little too quickly. “She’s a good pilot, and not a bad shot,” he was leaning forwards, hands open in front of himself. 

“Got no use for the shootin’ bit, but if you really are a good pilot,” the white suited man said as he finally reached for a beverage, then lent back with a heavy sigh in the lounge. “Are you goin’ to introduce us properly, Mikel?” he raised a bushy eyebrow towards Min’s friend and stroked his beard, and Mikel looked between the man and Min for a fraction longer than he should have, before startling and realising that Min had absolutely no idea the names of these men, just that Mikel had said they were her ticket out of Canto Bight, and off Cantonica. 

“Stars, my apologies!” Mikel straightened as if shocked, and in one swift movement he was beside Min, gesturing to the men from right to left. “This is Zyras Landala,” the shadowy one, “This is Sir Darjaran Oblenton,” the bearded man with the white suit and hat, “And this is Xin Rekkon,” the silent twi’lek in the crimson robes who tilted his head in acknowledgement.

Min looked at each as their names were stated, looking at them directly in the eyes and nodding her head lightly. “Pleasure, sirs.” 

“Let’s cut to the chase,” the twi’lek, Xin, interjected, and Min could feel Mikel tense beside her. They almost looked like two school children who had been scolded, brought up in front of the class to be an example of bad behaviour - although Min seemed at ease where she stood, and Mikel had never had a finger pointed at him in his entire life.

“We need a ferryman,” the twi’lek’s surprising baritone voice continued on. “Our current employee who’s been performing for years is unfortunately… moving on.” There was a slight cadence to Xin’s tone that definitely eluded to a more sinister movement than just _on._ Min ignored it. 

“Mikel’s said that you’ve experience caring for the animals _and_ piloting.” Darjaran, the bearded man, spoke up after a long sip of his drink. “Many people we get in only know how to do one or the other, not both.”

“We’ve seen a remarkable increase in our animals’ performance over the past few years,” he continued, looking to Zyras, “And we believe that this steady incline is a direct result of you being employed to care for them.” His eyes went back to Min’s face, and she had to refrain from beaming a proud smile. “You no doubt know that we own the majority of the fathers here,” Darjaran relaxed back into the couch, “and those damn beasts bring us more money now than they ever have.” He chuckled.

“We would like to begin talks with you to see if you’d like to move up in station,” Xin said without looking at her, the smallest tinge of condescension in his tone. He lent forwards, hands coming out of his billowy sleeves to take the third drink and sip daintily on it. How unexpected. 

“That is, we’d like to interview you for a position,” Darjaran said, looking at Xin, “Not interrogate you,” he said with a light laugh, obviously a joke at the expense of the twi’lek’s stern demeanour. 

Min’s mouth opened, and then closed. She was a little speechless. This was what she wanted. Mikel’s mouth followed suit - he obviously didn’t expect them to be so forward, even though he was the one who’d talked her up to them. All she could really do was lower her head thankfully, bringing the tray in front of her and holding it again with two hands. Her hair fell beside her face, and she all too quickly realised that she was still on shift. Still in a ridiculous dress with her hair pulled back far too tightly. 

“I’d love to,” was all she was able to get out, looking back up at the three men with a genuine smile. 

“Mikel can relay meeting details to you, I’m sure,” Darjaran said with a polite smile. He then adjusted on the couch as if he could relax even further, looking up to the holo screen to watch his fathers gallop over the green, seemingly done with her.

“Can I get you anything else, gentlemen,” she said, taking this as her queue to leave. 

“Some of that soft crabshell stuff,” Zyras said, winking at Min before taking a sip of his drink, eyes going up to watch the race on the holo. 

And like that, she’d gone from a potential employee back down to a waitress. Turning to leave the room, Mikel excused himself quietly and left closely behind Min.

The flood of music and chatter overtook her senses as soon as her hand parted the curtain. She walked back to the bar and Mikel had to quicken his pace to keep up with her. 

“It… It worked, you’re in,” he said at her arm as she stopped by the bar, sliding the tray into its place and punching in Zyras’ order on the holo tablet. Their food would be ready soon, but she’d be gone before it needs to be taken to their lounge. The time on the top of the holo indicated she was done, and she absolutely couldn’t wait to get out of the casino. 

“I’m not in yet, I still have to actually _get_ promoted,” she said without looking at him. 

“Yeah but they think you’re _great,_ ” Mikal offered, nerves melting away the further he was away from the men. 

“They think I’m novel,” Min said, turning to look flatly at him. 

“Novel is good,” he said, shaking balled fists at her in triumph. “Novel gets you the attention. Then it gets you the chance to prove you’re more.”

She blinked at him. “I’m done for the night. I’ll be at Sharba’s if you want to talk about this more.” She pushed past him, and he continued to stare at the spot she had been for a second like a stunned fish.

“I’ll… I’ll go arrange the meeting and catch up with you,” he said to her back before disappearing to return to the men. 

She sighed once out of sight, feeling slightly ill at ease, before disappearing down the shadows of the staff hall behind the bar, making her way to the change rooms to peel the dress off.

  
  



End file.
